


light with a sharpened edge

by orphan_account



Series: divine verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Kinda, M/M, Michael is Creepy (Supernatural), Pagan Adam Milligan, Pagan God Michael (Supernatural), Pagan Gods, Paganism, Pre-slash but not at the same time, Priest Adam Milligan, Worship, i mean that’s what i’m going for, please someone love this au as much as i do because honestly i would die for it, someone scream about it with me haha, they have a weird relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The arrow is pulled back on the bowstring, held between Adam’s fingers as he aims it at the white rabbit that sits on the ground of the forest. He had mastered sneaking up on animals years ago— in fact, he had mastered sneaking in general when he was living on the streets. Adam takes a shaky breath, ready to shoot the rabbit— he hates doing this, but it’s the only way he can get meat, with the exception of going into town.“I told you that I would be back,” Adam flinches at the voice, jerking his bow upwards and accidentally releasing the arrow from his fingers. The rabbit scurries off to somewhere else, and Adam whirls around to see who was speaking, although he already knew; he recognizes the voice, the voice of the deity he was pledged to. “Hello, Adam,”
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: divine verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598620
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	light with a sharpened edge

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i love this au 😳😳 
> 
> might feel a obligated to make a part 3 even tho i promised myself i’d work on other stuff before lol

The arrow is pulled back on the bowstring, held between Adam’s fingers as he aims it at the white rabbit that sits on the ground of the forest. He had mastered sneaking up on animals years ago— in fact, he had mastered sneaking in general when he was living on the streets. Adam takes a shaky breath, ready to shoot the rabbit— he hates doing this, but it’s the only way he can get meat, with the exception of going into town.

“I told you that I would be back,” Adam flinches at the voice, jerking his bow upwards and accidentally releasing the arrow from his fingers. The rabbit scurries off to somewhere else, and Adam whirls around to see who was speaking, although he already knew; he recognizes the voice, the voice of the deity he was pledged to. “Hello, Adam,”

Mikha’il stands a few feet behind Adam, a frown on his face. He is not wearing his golden robe this time; no, he’s simply in his brown tunic and pants, still barefoot, and he has the golden sword strapped to his belt. Adam didn’t see it the last time— not in all of its glory. He’s heard legends about Mikha’il’s sword, legends Zachariah told him; the sword itself was crafted from the very essence of the sun, and the crimson red crystal that sat on the hilt was solidified blood from each one of Mikha’il’s brothers, before the four of them had parted ways— in Lucifer’s case, get cast out of Heaven. Adam can feel the power radiating from the sword, and he instinctively takes a step back, his wooden bow hanging idly from his hand. “Lord Mikha’il,” He greets.

“It is simply _Mikha’il_ ,” The god corrects, voice soft, _gentle_ , something Adam would never have expected from a god. He is still frowning at Adam, though. “I believe I told you this last time, Adam.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, L- Mikha’il.” Adam utters, lowering his eyes from the god, and to Mikha’il’s bare feet. He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath.

“Adam,” Mikha’il narrows his eyes, taking a step towards Adam. He feels Mikha’il take his chin, guiding it upwards so Adam is staring into his green eyes. “Why are you so… hesitant in my presence? You seem to… to _fear_ me.”

“Oh-“ Adam exhales. Mikha’il’s touch hasn’t changed since the last time he visited, only days before. It’s still burning, electrifying, yet absolutely sensational. It burns, it burns so much, while at the same time, it’s the best thing Adam has ever felt. Mikha’il’s touch is tactile, gentle, his fingers barely grazing Adam’s skin. Adam won’t look away, though— if he had the choice, he would never look away.

“You do fear me,” Mikha’il mutters, removing his hand from Adam’s chin and taking a step back. Adam lets out a _whimper_ at the absence of Mikha’il’s touch. “ _Why_? I will never do anything to harm you. You are one of my own— you are one of my followers. My most devoted follower. My patron. My _champion_.”

“I’m- I’m not scared of you,” Adam says, ignoring the skeptical eyebrow raise from Mikha’il. It’s the truth; he is not scared of Mikha’il. He knows Mikha’il will never hurt him; yet, that doesn’t stop the god from intimidating him.

“Ah,” Mikha’il hums. He adjusts the sword on his belt, and Adam watches the corner of his lips quirk upwards into a smirk. “I see. I _intimidate_ you.”

“I- _what_?”

“Your thoughts are quite loud.” Mikha’il explains, his lips still quirked upwards. Mikha’il can hear Adam’s thoughts— which probably should make Adam more uncomfortable than he actually was. Mikha’il doesn’t give him a chance to respond; the god is turning on his heel, beginning to walk away. His sword glistens in the sunlight, the beam radiating down on him. He has an eyebrow raised, in a way that Adam can only describe as haughty. “Are you coming?”

Adam stays silent for a moment, his mouth open in an ‘o’. He’s unsure of what to say, of what to do— he will follow Mikha’il to the ends of the Earth, it was what he had pledged to do, years ago. Mikha’il is staring at him expectantly, one of his hands out for Adam to take, the other resting on the hilt of his sword. “Leave the bow. I will replace it later.”

Adam stumbled forward, dropping his wooden bow to the ground. “Where are we going?” He asks, placing his hand in Mikha’il’s. It’s like he tried to touch fire— his hand is searing, and it’s spreading, it’s spreading through his body and it’s encasing him and surrounding him and enveloping him; he can’t breathe, it’s too hot, he’s too hot— and then it stops and is replaced by a blinding light overtaking his vision and then _nothing_.

When he opens his eyes, he’s standing in the middle of a peony field and he can feel the blade of a sword pressed against his neck; the metal burning, and he can only assume what it’s from. Mikha’il’s sword. He doesn’t dare speak, he can feel the god standing behind him— not touching, the only thing touching Adam is the blade against his neck. “Mikha’il…?”

“Shh,” The god whispers into Adam’s ear, his breath ghosting over Adam’s skin. “Do you trust me, Adam?”

“I-“ Adam begins, pausing to think. He does not want to die; he has always been a bit of a coward when it came to death. He’s seen the fragility of life firsthand, he’s seen how it can be taken away so quickly, and it is not something he wants to experience. But this is Mikha’il. Mikha’il, who promised he would never hurt Adam. Mikha’il, who Adam has bled for, who Adam has dedicated _everything_ for. Adam trusts him. “ _Yes_.”

In one swift movement, Mikha’il is removing his sword from Adam’s neck and taking a step backwards. Adam turns around, noting that there is absolutely nothing else around them but peonies. Mikha’il is smiling, sliding his sword back into the loop on his belt. “Good boy.”

Adam fights down the flush of his cheeks at the praise, standing as tall as he can. He’s the most confident he has ever been in his life as he looks into Mikha’il’s eyes. “Teach me.”

“Teach you?” Mikha’il speculates, frowning at Adam, clearly expecting the human to elaborate.

“How to fight.” Adam explains. “You are _the_ war god, and I am your so called champion, after all. Unless that’s a lie, of course.”

Adam knows, there are many things Mikha’il is known for; his wrath, his mercy, his appreciation for loyalty, and honesty. He was walking on thin ice, he knew, but he _needs_ _this_ ; he‘s not sure if he needs to know how to fight as much as he wants to spend more time with Mikha’il.

Mikha’il’s expression darkens at his words, and Adam and see the holy terror that Zachariah had told him about. “I would watch the words you say, Adam Milligan. I may be merciful, but there are lines even you are unable to cross.” The god’s time is harsh, defensive, and Adam shivers down the urge to fall to his knees, beg and plead for his forgiveness, for Mikha’il to spare Adam.

“So, that’s a yes?” Adam asks instead. Mikha’il most likely has other things to do, and he’s going to strike Adam down right here and right now, a punishment for his disrespect.

“I…” Mikha’il starts, a bit hesitantly. His expression has softened, and he lets out a sigh of regret. “I do believe so.”

“Great!” Adam’s fear is replaced with exhilaration— _joy_. It was strange— strange for both of them. Adam felt this entire ordeal get as if it would be strange, even though he was the one who proposed it. “Where do we start?”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i’m gonna work on a part three lol
> 
> thank u for reading !! lemme know what u think xo i love u !!


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